


We're Not Discussing It

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-10
Updated: 2006-07-10
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: This is an in-depth look at the flashback scene from For the Love of a Chevy, so you might be wanting to read that first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** We’re Not Discussing It  
**Author:** [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[**keepaofthecheez**](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/)  
**Characters:** Sam/Dean   
**Rating:** R for language, sex, and incest.  
**Word Count:** 2, 462  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** pre-Pilot; underaged incest, spanking, and other sexual content.  
**Disclaimer:** Don’t own, don’t sue.   
**Summary:** This is an in-depth look at the flashback scene from [For the Love of a Chevy](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/140547.html), so you might be wanting to read that first.  
**Notes:** Feedback is much appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
Somehow, Sam should have anticipated how this was all gonna go down.  
  
Dad was gone, as usual, leaving him and Dean alone to fend for themselves against the laziness and boredom that accompanied summer vacation when there was nothing evil to hunt and kill.  
  
The air conditioner in the motel was on the blink, again, and after an hour of listening to Sam complain about it, Dean had dragged him outside and all but thrown him into the Impala before driving them about a mile down the road. They were both sprawled out now in a meadow, trading barbs back and forth and idly making conversation while letting the cool breeze soothe overheated flesh.  
  
Eventually, the discussion took a more tawdry turn, as it was wont to do when the two participants were sixteen and twenty and, well, Winchesters.   
  
“And you should’ve been there, Sammy,” Dean sighed, tucking an arm behind his head and staring up at the starry sky with a cryptic little smile on his face. “She was enough to get even _you_ thinking about something other than the next History Channel documentary.”  
  
And, well, it wasn’t like the insult was anything new…Dean was constantly ragging on him for being a nerd, a dweeb, the geeky sidekick to his super-hero _whatever_ , and Sam usually just gave him the finger and forgot about it. But for some reason, at that moment, it annoyed the fuck out of him.  
  
“I think about other stuff,” he grumbled, turning onto his side and glaring at Dean as the wind picked up and sent his shaggy hair flying into his eyes. “Just because I don’t try to screw everything on two legs—”  
  
“Hey, sometimes I like it when they’re on all fours, too,” Dean cracked, and Sam’s face flushed. As soon as Dean realized _that_ , it was on. A wide leer split Dean’s lips, and he started talking about anything and everything guaranteed to make Sam squirm.  
  
And it wasn’t like Sam actually _believed_ half of the shit Dean was saying, or was even really listening. No, Sam’s mind was occupied with other things…secrets of his own. The memory of what’d happened two weeks ago was still fresh in his mind, and although he’d done a good job of not speaking about it until now, he could already feel the words building in his throat, could feel the desire to knock Dean down a few pegs and make him feel as embarrassed as he was trying to make Sam.  
  
“Well, at least I don’t jerk off in my car all the damn time,” Sam muttered, and Dean went absolutely still beside him.  
  
Then, a strangled laugh. “What?”  
  
“I saw you the other night,” Sam admitted, carefully choosing his words and editing out the fact that he’d avidly _watched_ as Dean had stroked himself to blistering orgasm inside the Impala, eventually palming himself to his own climax. “I was up in a tree, fooling around with my knife, and you came home from a date with some townie and, well…you…”  
  
A gurgled sound sort of escaped Dean’s throat, and then gravel kicked up around Sam’s shoulders as Dean scrambled to his feet, expression flushed and wild. Sam sat up on both elbows, swallowing a bit as Dean glared down at him through eyes heavy-lidded with anger.   
  
“Why would you tell me that?” Dean bit out, shoving a hand through his hair as Sam continued to lie there in the grass, tongue between his teeth and uncertainty in his eyes. “Why the _hell_ would you do that, Sam?”  
  
“Dean, I—”  
  
“I have a right to my goddamn privacy,” Dean barreled on, voice shaking with something Sam couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it wasn’t really the anger Sam was expecting. It was something… _other_ , and it sent a nervous tingle up his spine as Dean continued to rail his displeasure over Sam’s slip of the tongue.   
  
“Not everything in my life is up for grabs, Sam,” he was saying, and Sam felt a bit chagrined to hear that, because really, if Dean didn’t share this stuff with him, who would? Sam didn’t get out much…he relied on Dean’s stories and tales from town – whether it was about a bar fight between two drunken townies or the waitress he’d banged in a back alley – to be his insight into the World Outside of the Winchesters.  
  
And, hell, it wasn’t like they’d never _discussed_ this kind of shit with each other. Dean had been the person to sit Sam down and explain everything when Sam had finally grown curious and desperate to know about the awkward feelings causing his body to change and react to every sexual stimuli. And so, Sam opened his mouth to say so, and Dean blinked. And then his scowl grew even darker.  
  
“You shouldn’t have done it, Sammy,” he repeated gruffly, dismissively, and really that was more than Sam could take. Dean was clearly marking the line now between them; dragging the short age difference out and making Sam feel like he was still in goddamn diapers or something.  
  
“Well, maybe _you_ shouldn’t have done it where I could’ve seen it!” he yelled back, _knowing_ it was bratty and childish, but hell, that was the way Dean was treating him, wasn’t it?  
  
Dean’s mouth worked for a long second during which Sam’s heated words echoed between them. And then, in a voice low and vibrating with warning, Dean took a step closer and said the one thing that would be unforgivable. “Boy, you’re not too big for me to whip your ass.”  
  
Sam wasn’t quite sure who was more surprised by the words, he or Dean. Dean’s face went hot, but his expression didn’t change even if his fists drew tighter together. And Sam’s eyes were drawn to those hands, hands that had never punished him despite all of the rebellious antics of his childhood.   
  
Dean had never _ever_ struck him, and Sam knew he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. Armed with that knowledge, and a new three-inch advantage in height thanks to yet another growth spurt, he came to his feet and stared down at Dean with a smirk in his eyes. He was spoiling for a fight now, and didn’t even hesitate to speak the words he knew would get him one.  
  
“I’d like to see you try, Dean.”  
  
They were nose-to-nose now, or almost so given the height difference, and before he could blink, Sam found himself spun around and thrust up against the hood of the Impala. Dean’s body was hot and hard behind him, and Sam experienced that same rush he’d known the night he’d watched Dean from the tree overlooking the motel parking lot.  
  
He let out a breathless laugh, twisting against the arms that pinned him firmly in place and craned his neck to meet Dean’s furious gaze. “What, you gonna _spank_ me now, Dean?” he goaded, every nerve in his body tingling with awareness and he wasn’t sure he really knew what was happening, but he _did_ , and instead of freaking him the fuck out, it just made him want to provoke Dean that much more.  
  
Dean was breathing hard now, and Sam could practically _taste_ the anger and frustration on Dean’s breath when his brother bent over him and brought his mouth to Sam’s ear. “Maybe.”  
  
And then, they both froze.  
  
Sam’s mind was working too quickly for him to process anything, and he just sort of laid there, cheek flush up against metal as Dean remained pressed up against _him_ , and then…he felt it. It was kind of hard to miss, actually, and Sam’s oversexed teenage brain immediately made the leap to _oh holy fuck, yes_ and just like that, he was as hard as Dean felt against his lower back.  
  
“Dean,” he managed, voice hoarse and confused and more than a little horny. He wasn’t scared, despite the fact that this was quite obviously wrong and fucked the hell up, because it was _Dean_. And Dean had never done anything in his life that would have been bad for Sam.  
  
Dean’s own voice when he answered was thick and slurred, maybe even a little apologetic when he said, “Hush, Sammy.” And then those blunt fingers were working Sam’s jeans down his hips, and Sam was _letting him_ \- encouraging it even, with little thrusts and bursts, and then there was a sharp sting across his bare ass and he nearly bit his tongue in half.  
  
Dean’s palm rested against the spot he’d just swatted, and Sam shifted his feet, whining a little in his throat as Dean’s fingers twitched. Sam knew he should feel all kinds of ridiculous and humiliated to be standing there, pants and underwear around his ankles, but he actually felt a bit empowered. Particularly when Dean let out a ragged curse and removed his hand only to bring it down again, in a different spot, as Sam braced himself for the burn.  
  
“Why do you have to have such a smart-ass mouth,” Dean was saying, obviously feeling just as tortured and confused as Sam. “Goddamn it…” He spanked Sam again – never too hard, just enough to have Sam let out a gasp of surprise – and then stroked the flesh his hand had marked. “One of these days, Sam, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”  
  
And Sam could only laugh at _that_ \- half-naked and bent over the hood of his brother’s car while said brother literally whipped his ass. If this wasn’t Trouble, he’d never met the creature.  
  
“Worry about yourself, I got it from you,” he said through his teeth, and Dean’s hand stilled its stroking motions. Sam was panting now, and he could hear Dean, as well, and then Dean brought his hand down again. Hard. And Sam moaned, hips canting, and then Dean was cursing a blue streak as his hand came around to find Sam’s cock swollen and trembling with need.  
  
“Fuck, Sam,” he said, over and over, until the words stopped sounding like an accusation and starting sounding like a promise. The sound of metal teeth being torn apart filled Sam’s ringing ears, and then Dean's hot breath was there.  
  
“You better not scratch my fucking paint.” Dean’s words were guttural, and that was all the warning Sam got before something wet and probing pressed up against him, teasing, and he let out a sound that would’ve been embarrassing at any other time.  
  
“Dean!” he choked out as his brother’s finger toyed, just there, and Sam’s fingers curled against the hood, leaving behind streaks of sweat. He tried to push back, shaking and on edge to discover whatever it was Dean was offering, but despite all the height and weight he had over his brother, Dean was in the more dominating position.  
  
“Christ, is this what you _want?_ ” Dean was saying, an almost dreamy slur in his voice. And when Sam shivered, he added, “ _God_ …Sam…”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sam was close to sobbing now, whether from apology or desperation he wasn’t sure, but neither stopped him from arching back against Dean. The words started pouring from his lips, disoriented, soaked in arousal and regret. “I shouldn’t have watched you, I won’t do it again, I—”  
  
“Shut up.” But Dean’s words were soft, soothing, and Sam settled down just enough to feel Dean slip a spit-slickened finger inside of him. Virgin muscles clamped down around it, and Sam just sort of keened, thrashing back against Dean as his brother leaned forward, pressing Sam tighter against the Impala.   
  
“It’s okay, Sam, I got you,” he was whispering, and all the anger and aggravation from moments ago had been replaced with tenderness. His finger moved just slightly, fluttering inside of Sam, and Sam bucked and gasped.   
  
Dean dropped his head into the nook between Sam’s neck and shoulder and sighed. “God, you’re too tight, Sam…we can’t do this.” The words sounded pained, ripped from Dean’s throat, and Sam couldn’t stop trembling.  
  
“I don’t care if it hurts,” Sam said stubbornly, reaching for Dean’s other hand that rested on his hip. “I can—”  
  
“No, you can’t.” Dean’s voice brooked no argument, and Sam wanted to stomp his feet and throw shit, preferably at his brother. Dean sighed again, pulling his finger out as his teeth sank into Sam’s shoulder. “Trust me, baby, you can’t.”  
  
Baby. Sam should have been disgusted, horrified, but it sounded so normal coming from Dean’s lips, and just made him want what he apparently couldn’t have that much more.   
  
He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but in the next minute he found himself turned around, back against the car as Dean hovered over him, and it was the first time Sam had really gotten a good glimpse of the expression on his brother’s face since this whole weird thing had started.  
  
Dean looked fucking _tortured_ , and as greedy as Sam felt. But he was still being Dean – protective older brother, and it only took one look at that face for Sam to know that he wasn’t getting any tonight, no matter what he did.  
  
Dean’s eyes skimmed Sam’s features, and then his mouth was opening over Sam’s, hungry and demanding, and Sam couldn’t have resisted even if he _hadn’t_ practically instigated the whole damn thing to begin with. He let out a sound, reaching out to grip Dean’s head as Dean shifted, crawling up Sam’s body until their hips were aligned and then…  
  
Sam ripped away from Dean’s mouth with a moan when Dean moved just so, their dicks rubbing and humping against one another, and through heavy lids he found his brother watching him, neck straining and lips pulled back in almost agonized concentration. And Sam knew, he _knew_ this wasn’t supposed to be the stuff that got him off. He should’ve been thinking of warm breasts and soft thighs, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from bronzed muscles and short-cropped hair that was almost silver in the moonlight.  
  
Dean said his name, so softly that it was almost lost on the wind, but Sam heard it. And responded in kind, dragging Dean’s face back against his as lips and teeth and tongue lashed together. At one point, Dean broke away with a strangled groan, mouthing Sam’s jaw as his hips worked frantically, and Sam just stared up at the sky – lips wide open and breath coming shallow.  
  
They came together like that, cool night air drying the sweat and stickiness on their skin. Sam waited for the awkwardness to settle in; for Dean to look down and remember who he was, _what_ he was. Instead, Dean just nuzzled Sam’s neck and rolled over with a grimace before saying, “Dude…if you dented my hood, I swear to God…”  
  
And just like that, Sam knew things would be fine.


End file.
